Pages tagged with "Warwick"http://www.rc.umd.edu/taxonomy/term2/21378/all
enAppendix 1http://www.rc.umd.edu/editions/southey_letters/letterEEd.26.appendix1.html
<div class="field field-name-field-published field-type-date field-label-hidden view-mode-fulltext"><div class="field-items"><div class="field-item even" property="collex:date" datatype="gYearMonth"><span class="date-display-single" property="collex:date" datatype="gYearMonth" content="2009-02-01T00:00:00-05:00">February 2009</span></div></div></div><div class="field field-name-body field-type-text-with-summary field-label-hidden view-mode-fulltext"><div class="field-items"><div class="field-item even" property="content:encoded"><div id="container"><a class="button" href="/sites/default/files/imported/editions/southey_letters/letterEEd.26.appendix1.xml"><img src="/sites/default/files/xml-tei_button.gif" align="right" width="80" height="15" alt=""/></a>
<div class="paratext"><h3>Appendix 1</h3>
<p class="pnonident">This appendix deals with two letters by Southey where the surviving manuscript is less complete than the version published by
previous editors. In both cases, a transcript of the manuscript is in the main text of this edition.</p>
<br xmlns=""/>
<div class="letter">
<h3>Letter A: Robert Southey to <a class="link_ref" href="people.html#LambThomasPhillipps" title="Thomas Phillipps Lamb">Thomas Phillipps Lamb</a>, 3 April 1793
</h3>
<p class="pnonident">[The letter reproduced below is a fuller version of that included in the main text of the edition as Letter 46. The text in
this appendix is taken from John Wood Warter (ed.), <span class="titlem">Selections from the letters of Robert Southey</span>, 4
vols (London, 1856), I, pp. 15–20.]</p>
<p align="right">
Ledbury
, April 3, 1793.
</p>
<div class="lg">
<div class="indent2">Heavens, what a throne! from every eye retired,</div>
<div class="indent2">Alone by solitude and thought inspired;</div>
<div class="indent2">Wild fancy wanders o’er the primrosed side,</div>
<div class="indent2">And scarcely dreams of bliss or worlds beside.</div>
<div class="indent2">The brook rolls on, rough o’er the moss-clad stone,</div>
<div class="indent2">With ceaseless roar, and foamy billows strown.</div>
<div class="indent2">The mountain-ash, as eve’s soft breezes blow,</div>
<div class="indent2">Depends its branches to the stream below;</div>
<div class="indent2">The gay moss mantling o’er the secret bank,</div>
<div class="indent2">The glistening pebbles and the verdure dank.</div>
</div>
<p class="indent5"> * * * * * * * *</p>
<div class="lg">
<div class="indent2">From thence, my dear sir, had I bid fancy fly,</div>
<div class="indent2">Expand her soft pinions and hasten to <a class="link_ref" href="places.html#MountsfieldRye" title="Rye">Rye</a>.</div>
<div class="indent2">Go, my goddess (I cried), skim aloft in the air,</div>
<div class="indent2">Tell my friends how I am, and with whom, why, and where;</div>
<div class="indent2">Go, give my best wishes — tell how we walked down</div>
<div class="indent2">Miles sixty and eight from Stupidity Town, — <a href="#1"> [1]</a><a name="back1"> </a>
</div>
<div class="indent2">Where we baited, where slept, whom we met, and what saw,</div>
<div class="indent2">Nor forget to remind me to Mr. Megaw:<a href="#2"> [2]</a><a name="back2"> </a>
</div>
<div class="indent2">Go, tell Mrs. Lamb, since her counsel was best,</div>
<div class="indent2">Here I am still a boy, with my coxcomb undrest;</div>
<div class="indent2">Tell <a class="link_ref" href="people.html#LambThomasDavis" title="Tom">Tom</a> that <a class="link_ref" href="people.html#CombeEdward" title="Majestas">Majestas</a> is mending each day:</div>
<div class="indent2">All this and much more I intended to say,</div>
<div class="indent2">When Edward<a href="#3"> [3]</a><a name="back3"> </a> stept down to the side of the brook, —</div>
<div class="indent2">Up went pen and ink, and I shut up my book.</div>
<div class="indent2">Since then we walked on here to Ledbury Town,</div>
<div class="indent2">And here we remain, my dear sir, weather bound.</div>
<div class="indent2">Ah! would fancy obediently hear what I say,</div>
<div class="indent2">And the weather my every commandment obey,</div>
<div class="indent2">I would send it just now to the cold northern sphere,</div>
<div class="indent2">And entreat them to hail, snow, or rain all the year;</div>
<div class="indent2">And behold, to my comfort, down floating, the snow —</div>
<div class="indent2">Yes, the weather’s propitious and I cannot go:</div>
<div class="indent2">Blest weather! blest snow! But, my dear <a class="link_ref" href="people.html#LambThomasDavis" title="Mr. Lamb">Mr. Lamb</a>,</div>
<div class="indent2">I had almost forgotten to say where I am.</div>
<div class="indent2">Twelve miles beyond Worcester stands Hatthouse, — a place</div>
<div class="indent2">Which nature has decked with each natural grace:</div>
<div class="indent2">Half-way up a small hill, at whose base winding on</div>
<div class="indent2">The rock-broken rivulet runs winding along;</div>
<div class="indent2">Hills, valleys, and roads all round us are seen,</div>
<div class="indent2">And Malvern’s tall hills fix a bound to the scene;</div>
<div class="indent2">Eighteen beyond that stands the town of Ledbury,</div>
<div class="indent2">Where I am quite happy and pleased I assure ye.</div>
<div class="indent2">O my legs! greatest blessing that nature bestowed,</div>
<div class="indent2">Not cut out for the ball-room, but made for the road,</div>
<div class="indent2">Not with delicate shape, formed genteelly, and taper,</div>
<div class="indent2">A minuet to walk, or excel in a caper, —</div>
<div class="indent2">I thank ye, some miles ye have brought me, — nor yet</div>
<div class="indent2">Can I this great service despise or forget —</div>
<div class="indent2">Enabled by you these thin bones to support on,</div>
<div class="indent2">You led me to dinner at old Chipping Norton,</div>
<div class="indent2">And carried me on to a night’s rest at Moreton.</div>
<div class="indent2">At Broadway you taught me a breakfast was best there</div>
<div class="indent2">To support me to dinner as far as Worcester.</div>
</div>
<p class="indent5"> * * * * * * * *</p>
<p class="indent1"> Sober prose, my dear sir, will best account for my not visiting <a class="link_ref" href="places.html#MountsfieldRye" title="Rye">Rye</a>, and acquaint you with what I have seen. Our vacation barely consists of three weeks, out of which, in going
and returning, five days must have been spent, and time flies so rapidly at <a class="link_ref" href="places.html#MountsfieldRye" title="Rye">Rye</a>, that it is needless to shorten his career. One evening <a class="link_ref" href="people.html#SewardEdmund" title="Seward">Seward</a> asked
me to walk into Worcester with him. You know I love walking, as it is the only exercise I excel in; you likewise know how
little time my wise brain gives to consideration. I accepted the offer, and off we set. We breakfasted at Woodstock, seven
miles from Oxford, and passed the environs of Blenheim<a href="#4"> [4]</a><a name="back4"> </a> without entering. Of this stoicism I fear I should not have
been guilty, but for the remembrance that <a class="link_ref" href="people.html#CombeEdward" title="Coombe">Coombe</a> intended to go with me early in
the summer. The day, too, looked uncertain, and we had eleven miles to Chipping Norton, where we proposed dining. At Enstone,
however, Henrietta’s waterworks<a href="#5"> [5]</a><a name="back5"> </a> attracted us, made about some 150 years back by some fantastic esquire who had water on his brain like a
friend of yours. They are very pretty, but it is <em xmlns="" xmlns:html="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml">so</em> unnatural to imagine moss-clad rocks and springs in a
room, that fancy could not so far blind the eyes of reason as to dress it with probability. The old woman who conducted us
(for the man had lately broken his leg) was contented with showing it without wetting us, — the wit of the place. Ladies are
desired to look at this and that; and the ground spouts up water — it rains — and, in short, you get completely sluiced for
curiosity and amusement.</p>
<p class="indent1"> The time we spent there we did not think by any means thrown away. I shall know the practical jokes at
Chatsworth,<a href="#6"> [6]</a><a name="back6"> </a> and have
discovered that the hydromania is almost as bad as the hydrophobia. Lord Shrewsbury has a pleasant seat, Heythorp,<a href="#7"> [7]</a><a name="back7"> </a> near the village; but the situation is vile: and indeed the
road from Oxford to Chipping Norton is very uninteresting. Some good cold beef, cold tongue, sallad, and a bottle of cider
were productive of much entertainment: we deserved an appetite, and we had one. But Moreton lay eight miles on, and we soon
proceeded.</p>
<p class="indent1"> The village of Salford is very pleasant, and the country mends much as you approach the four-shire stone — the
boundary-mark of Gloucester, Worcester, Oxford, and Warwick shires. It is a neat stone, handsomer than even the Romans made
Terminus,<a href="#8"> [8]</a><a name="back8"> </a> and yet not sufficiently so to tempt me to fall down, and worship it. Moreton-in-the-Marsh we
reached to tea, — a vile, unhealthy, horrible town. Early the next morning we rose, after a curious division of the bed, — for
we slept together. He took all the bed and I took all the clothes; but we did not need rocking. Over Camden Downs to Broadway.
The hill above the town presented me with a most delightful view.</p>
<p class="indent1"> Equally rich, and far more extensive, than that from Madamescourt Hill, yet not so beautifully diversified, you
see the fertile vale of Evesham, the town of the same name, Broadway just below, and at a distance the smoke of Pershore and
Worcester, Malvern Hills melting into distance. A man of Exeter<a href="#9"> [9]</a><a name="back9"> </a> breakfasted with us at Broadway, who, in walking twenty miles in boots
once, had lost his two toe-nails. He was mounted, but though we left Oxford together, we kept up with him, even into
Worcester. The Abbey of Evesham is wonderfully grand; in a very different stile from Battle, but equally beautiful. A tower, a
perfect sample of the simple Gothic, fronts the skeleton of the church, whose roof, in many places fallen in, affords light
enough to show distinctly the inside, and casts a shade in many places. The grass grows in the high arched windows. Desolation
makes it more striking; but unless some lover of antiquity gives assistance very shortly, it will, I fear, fall entirely. We
reached Worcester to dinner, having never rested for twenty-one miles. Here, as you may easily imagine, we were not sorry to
rest. To proceed twelve miles through a very clayey, wet country, was, though not impossible, very unpleasant. We remained
that night, and the next morning being wet breakfasted with a clergyman. The day cleared up. I bought a trusty stick, drew on
my Old Bear*<a href="#10"> [10]</a><a name="back10"> </a> (the luggage having arrived), and on we proceeded. The country had
been pleasant before; it now became romantically beautiful, and I rejoiced in having journeyed to it; but the wet grounds and
roads, such as in Sussex would be deemed impassible, made the travelling not good. It was a trifle, not worth consideration;
but we grew hungry, for speed was impossible. ....<a href="#11"> [11]</a><a name="back11"> </a> The bread and cheese, cold pig’s face, tongue, and tarts, and cider, were most
agreeable. It may seem strange, but I never found such pleasure in travelling as in this expedition. The highest pride is
couched under humility, and in truth I was proud of travelling so humbly.</p>
<p class="indent1"> I have since visited Abberley, Bewdley, Kidderminster, and Malvern, each well worth seeing; but it is difficult
to describe so many assemblies of houses in a different manner. Since our arrival here the snow has fallen; and I am inclined
to hope, from the aspect, that we shall be weather-bound till the last moment. Arthur Young’s<a href="#12"> [12]</a><a name="back12"> </a> remark is very true, “It
is the fate of travellers just to visit persons whom we could wish to be acquainted with, and then part.” Thanks be to the
weather, I am shut up. <a class="link_ref" href="people.html#LambThomasDavis" title="T. Lamb">T. Lamb</a> promised me Mr. Lettice’s<a href="#13"> [13]</a><a name="back13"> </a> Travels *;<a href="#14"> [14]</a><a name="back14"> </a>
<a class="link_ref" href="people.html#CombeEdward" title="His Majesty">His Majesty</a> claims the same; and as I have some idea of walking with <a class="link_ref" href="people.html#CollinsCharles" title="Collins">Collins</a> over Scotland next year, it will be of much use. </p>
<p class="indent1"> Poor Anax!<a href="#15"> [15]</a><a name="back15"> </a> he was quite scaly before his departure, but is now recovering apace. <a class="link_ref" href="people.html#LambThomasDavis" title="Tom">Tom</a> must come to Oxford at the installation; <a href="#16"> [16]</a><a name="back16"> </a> I promise him
house-room and good living: or, if Mrs. L. will come, it will give me much pleasure to procure lodgings for her. Such sights
do not chance any day. <a class="link_ref" href="people.html#LambThomasDavis" title="Tom">Tom</a> should have a sample of collegiate life, in order
to prize his mode of education the more. In truth, there is little good learnt at Oxford, and much evil: society eternally of
men unfits one for any thing else. At Westminster, friends were near; but at Oxford a man can never learn refinement. A
company of all men is at all times bad; here it is abominable. His plan of study is hard, but it deserves more praise than I
can give. I hope Mrs. L. will come; but, in any case, <a class="link_ref" href="people.html#LambThomasDavis" title="Tom">Tom</a> must. The state of
French affairs pleases <em xmlns="" xmlns:html="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml">you</em> I hope. Peace! Peace! is all I wish for. But why should I give my sentiments?
— yours are more deeply founded upon experience. Nor does it become a young mad-headed enthusiast to judge of these matters.
Time may alter my opinions: I do not much think it will. Let those opinions be what they will, you will not despise me for
them. I had some more lines to have sent, but as they might not exactly have accorded with what is politically good, they are
suppressed. My best respects and wishes to all friends at <a class="link_ref" href="places.html#MountsfieldRye" title="Rye">Rye</a>. Will you once
more favour me with a letter to Oxford? I have no friend to advise me with respect to my conduct, and your advice will be
good.</p>
<p class="indent4"> Yours most sincerely,</p>
<p class="indent6"> ROBERT SOUTHEY.</p>
</div>
<div class="letter">
<h3>Letter B: Robert Southey to [<a class="link_ref" href="people.html#LovellRobert" title="Robert Lovell">Robert Lovell</a>], [started before and
continued on] 19 February 1796
</h3>
<p class="pnonident">[The text reproduced below is a fuller — but still not complete — version of Letter 147. The text is taken from Charles
Cuthbert Southey (ed.), <span class="titlem">Life and Correspondence of Robert Southey</span>, 6 vols (London, 1849–1850), I, pp.
262–67.]</p>
<p align="right">
Feb. 19. 1796.</p>
<p class="indent1"> I have an invincible dislike to saying the same things in two different letters, and yet you must own it is no
easy matter, to write half a dozen different ones, upon the same subject. I am at Lisbon, and therefore all my friends expect
some account of Portugal; but it is not pleasant to reiterate terms of abuse, and continually to present to my own mind
objects of filth and deformity. By way of improving your English cookery, take the Portuguese receipt for dressing rabbits.
The spit is placed either above the fire, below the fire, by the side of the fire, or in the fire; (this is when they have a
spit, and that is little better than an iron skewer, for they <em xmlns="" xmlns:html="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml">roast</em> meat in a <em xmlns="" xmlns:html="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml">jug</em>,
and <em xmlns="" xmlns:html="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml">boil</em> it in a frying-pan;) to know if it is done they crack the joints with their fingers, and then
lay it aside till it cools, then they seize the rabbit, tear it piecemeal with their fingers into rags, and fry it up with
oil, garlic, and aniseed. I have attempted sausages made of nothing but garlic and aniseed; they cut off the rump of a bird
always because they dress it, and neither prayers nor entreaties can save a woodcock from being drawn and quartered. R——<a href="#17"> [17]</a><a name="back17"> </a> (who never got up till we were in sight of Corunna) lay in his bed
studying what would be the best dinner when we landed; he at last fixed upon a leg of mutton, soles and oyster sauce, and
toasted cheese — to the no small amusement of those who knew he could get neither, and to his no small disappointment when he
sat down to a chicken fried in oil, and an omelet of oil and eggs. He leapt out of bed in the middle of his first night in
Spain, in order to catch the fleas, who made it too hot for him.</p>
<p class="indent1"> Miss<a href="#18"> [18]</a><a name="back18"> </a> remains in Lord Bute’s stables, in Madrid: — she amused me on the road by devouring one pair of
horsehair socks, one tooth-brush, one comb, a pound of raisins, do. of English beef, and one pair of shoes: <a class="link_ref" href="people.html#MaberGeorgeMartin" title="Maber">Maber</a> has as much reason to remember her. So you see Miss lived well upon the
road. Tossed about at I have been by the convulsions of air, water, and earth, and enduring what I have from the want of the
other element, I am in high health. <a class="link_ref" href="people.html#HillHerbert" title="My uncle">My uncle</a> and I never molest each other by our
different principles. I used to work <a class="link_ref" href="people.html#MaberGeorgeMartin" title="Maber">Maber</a> sometimes, but here there is no
one whom I am so intimate with, or with whom I wish intimacy. Here is as much visiting and as little society as you can wish;
and a Bristol alderman may have his fill of good eating and drinking; yet is this metropolis supplied only from hand to mouth,
and when the boats cannot come from Alentejo, the markets are destitute; at this time there is no fuel to be bought! Barbary
supplies them with corn, and that as so low a rate, that the farmers do not think it worth while to bring their corn to
market, so that the harvest of last year is not yet touched. They cannot grind the Barbary corn in England: it is extremely
hard, and the force and velocity of English mills reduce the husk as well as the grain to powder. I learnt all this from the
Vice Consul,<a href="#19"> [19]</a><a name="back19"> </a> who has written much to Lord Grenville<a href="#20"> [20]</a><a name="back20"> </a> on the subject, and proposed damping the corn previous to
grinding it, so as to prevent the bran from pulverising. Lord G. has even sent for grindstones to Lisbon, in hopes they might
succeed better. It is melancholy to reflect on what a race possesses the fertile coasts of Barbary! Yet are these Portuguese
not a degree above them. You may form some idea how things are managed in this country from the history of the present war: by
treaty the Portuguese were to furnish the English with a certain number of ships, or a certain sum of money; and the Spaniards
with troops or money; the money was expected, but the Secretary of State, Mello,<a href="#21"> [21]</a><a name="back21"> </a> argued that it was
more politic to lay it out among their own countrymen, and make soldiers and sailors. The old boy’s measures were vigorous; he
sent for the general of one of the provinces, appointed him commander in Brazil, and ordered him to be ready at an hour’s
notice; but old Mello fell ill, and the general, after remaining three months at Lisbon (for during Mello’s illness the other
party managed affairs,) he found no more probability of departing than on the first day, and he accordingly sent for his
furniture, wife, and family to Lisbon. Soon after they arrived the secretary recovered, — every thing was hurried for the
expedition, — and the wife, family and furniture, sent home again. Mello fell ill again, every thing was at a stand, and the
general once more called his family to Lisbon. The old fellow recovered; sent them all home again; put everything in
readiness, fell ill again, and died. The measures of the government have ever since been uniformly languid; and, though the
stupid hounds sent ships to England, and troops to Spain, they never believed themselves at war with France till the French
took their ships at the mouth of the river!</p>
<p class="indent1"> The meeting of the two Courts<a href="#22"> [22]</a><a name="back22"> </a> at Badajos is supposed to have been political, and it was surmised that Spain meant to draw
Portugal into an alliance with France: they, however, parted on bad terms. War with Spain is not improbable, and, if our
minister knew how to conduct it, would amply repay the expenses of the execrable contest. The Spanish settlements could not
resist a well-ordered expedition, and humanity would be benefited by the delivery of that country from so heavy a yoke. There
is a very seditious Spaniard there now, preaching Atheism and Isocracy; one of Godwin’s school; for <a class="link_ref" href="people.html#GodwinWilliam" title="Godwin">Godwin</a> has his pupils in Spain.</p>
<p class="indent1"> I can see no paper here but the London Chronicle, and those every other day papers are good for nothing. <a class="link_ref" href="people.html#ColeridgeSamuelTaylor" title="Coleridge">Coleridge</a> is at Birmingham, I hear; and I hear of his projected
‘Watchman.’<a href="#23"> [23]</a><a name="back23"> </a> I send five letters by this post to Bristol, and two to London, — a
tolerable job for one who keeps no secretary. I shall send four by the Magician frigate, and four more by the next packet.
Thus is pretty well, considering I read very hard, and spend every evening in company. ..... I know not why I have lost all
relish for theatrical amusements, of which no one was once more fond. The round of company here is irksome to me, and a select
circle of intimate friends is the <em xmlns="" xmlns:html="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml">summum bonum</em> I propose to myself. I leave this country in April; and,
when once I reach England, shall cross the seas no more. O the super-celestial delights of the road from Falmouth to
Launceston! Yet I do believe that Christian, in the ‘Pilgrim’s Progress,’<a href="#24"> [24]</a><a name="back24"> </a> felt little
more pleasure at his journey’s end than I shall in traversing the lovely hills and plains of Cornwall. .... John Kett<a href="#25"> [25]</a><a name="back25"> </a> was of great service to me in Spain,
and will return to England, where, as soon as I have pitched my tent, I purpose burning him a sacrifice to the household gods,
and inurning his ashes with a suitable epitaph. Then shall <em xmlns="" xmlns:html="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml">sans culotte</em>
<a href="#26"> [26]</a><a name="back26"> </a> be hung upon the wall, and I will make a trophy of my
travelling shoes and fur cap. I am not going out to dinner; then to see a procession; then to talk French; then to a huge
assembly, from whence there is no returning before one o’clock. O midnight! midnight! when a man does murder thee, he ought at
least to get something by it.<a href="#27"> [27]</a><a name="back27"> </a>
</p>
<p class="indent1"> Here are most excellent wines, which I do in no small degree enjoy: the best Port; Bucellas of exquisite
quality; old Hock, an old gentleman for whom I have a very great esteem; Cape, and I have ‘good hope’ of getting some to-day;
and Malmsey such as makes a man envy Clarence.<a href="#28"> [28]</a><a name="back28"> </a>
</p>
<p class="indent1"> Farewell Love to <a class="link_ref" href="people.html#FrickerMary" title="Mrs. L.">Mrs. L.</a>
</p>
<p class="indent4"> Robert Southey.</p>
</div>
</div>
<hr size="1" noshade="noshade"/><div class="notes"><div class="noteHeading"><h3>Notes</h3></div><div class="note"><p class="letnote"><a name="1">[1] </a>Oxford. <a href="#back1">BACK</a></p></div><div class="note"><p class="letnote"><a name="2">[2] </a>Unidentified. <a href="#back2">BACK</a></p></div><div class="note"><p class="letnote"><a name="3">[3] </a>Possibly a mistranscription for Edmund. See <a class="link_ref" href="people.html#SewardEdmund" title="Edmund Seward">Edmund Seward</a>. <a href="#back3">BACK</a></p></div><div class="note"><p class="letnote"><a name="4">[4] </a>Blenheim Palace had been funded
by the public purse in gratitude for the victory of John Churchill, 1st Duke of Marlborough (1650–1722; <span class="titlem">DNB</span>), at the battle of Blenheim in 1704. <a href="#back4">BACK</a></p></div><div class="note"><p class="letnote"><a name="5">[5] </a>Water features erected by Thomas Bushell (bef.
1600–1674; <span class="titlem">DNB</span>) on his estate at Enstone, Oxfordshire. Charles I (1600–1649; reigned 1625–1649;
<span class="titlem">DNB</span>) and his wife Henrietta Maria (1609–1669; <span class="titlem">DNB</span>) visited them in
1636. <a href="#back5">BACK</a></p></div><div class="note"><p class="letnote"><a name="6">[6] </a>The ancestral home of the Dukes of Devonshire. <a href="#back6">BACK</a></p></div><div class="note"><p class="letnote"><a name="7">[7] </a>Heythrop House was the ancestral home of the Earls of Shrewsbury. The owner in 1793 was
Charles Talbot, 15th Earl of Shrewsbury (1753–1827). <a href="#back7">BACK</a></p></div><div class="note"><p class="letnote"><a name="8">[8] </a>Roman god of boundaries. His statue was kept in his temple on the
Tarpeian rock. <a href="#back8">BACK</a></p></div><div class="note"><p class="letnote"><a name="9">[9] </a>Unidentified, perhaps
an undergraduate at Exeter College, Oxford. <a href="#back9">BACK</a></p></div><div class="note"><p class="letnote"><a name="10">[10] </a>*: Warter adds footnote: ‘His great coat, to which there is an ode in a
MS. letter to G.C. Bedford, December 14. 1793.’ <a href="#back10">BACK</a></p></div><div class="note"><p class="letnote"><a name="11">[11] </a>....: Warter adds footnote: ‘MS.
illegible, and part torn out.’ <a href="#back11">BACK</a></p></div><div class="note"><p class="letnote"><a name="12">[12] </a>Arthur Young (1741–1820; <span class="titlem">DNB</span>), <span class="titlem">Travels During the Years 1787,
1788 and 1789, Undertaken more particularly with a View of Ascertaining the Cultivation, Wealth, Resources, and
National Prosperity of the Kingdom of France</span> (Bury St Edmunds, 1792), p. 79. <a href="#back12">BACK</a></p></div><div class="note"><p class="letnote"><a name="13">[13] </a>Probably John Lettice (1737–1832; <span class="titlem">DNB</span>), clergyman and author,
employed as travelling companion and tutor to Thomas Davis Lamb. <a href="#back13">BACK</a></p></div><div class="note"><p class="letnote"><a name="14">[14] </a>*: Warter adds footnote: ‘Letters on a Tour through various parts of Scotland, in 1792 London.’ [Editorial note: John
Lettice, <span class="titlem">Letters on a Tour through Various Parts of Scotland</span> (1794).] <a href="#back14">BACK</a></p></div><div class="note"><p class="letnote"><a name="15">[15] </a>The ancient Greek word for king, so possible a reference to
Edward Combe, ‘King of Men’. <a href="#back15">BACK</a></p></div><div class="note"><p class="letnote"><a name="16">[16] </a>William Cavendish-Bentinck, 3rd Duke of Portland (1738–1809; <span class="titlem">DNB</span>), Prime Minister
1783 and 1807–1809, was installed as Chancellor of the University of Oxford on 1 July 1793. <a href="#back16">BACK</a></p></div><div class="note"><p class="letnote"><a name="17">[17] </a>Mr Raynsford (first name and dates unknown), a companion of Southey’s during some of
his time in Spain and Portugal in 1795–1796. <a href="#back17">BACK</a></p></div><div class="note"><p class="letnote"><a name="18">[18] </a>
<span class="titlem">Life and Correspondence</span> adds footnote, ‘A
favourite dog.’ <a href="#back18">BACK</a></p></div><div class="note"><p class="letnote"><a name="19">[19] </a>Unidentified. <a href="#back19">BACK</a></p></div><div class="note"><p class="letnote"><a name="20">[20] </a>William Wyndham Grenville, 1st Lord Grenville (1759–1834; <span class="titlem">DNB</span>),
Foreign Secretary 1791–1801, Prime Minister 1806–1807. <a href="#back20">BACK</a></p></div><div class="note"><p class="letnote"><a name="21">[21] </a>Martinho de Melo e Castro (1716–1795), Secretary for the Navy and Overseas Affairs 1773–1795. <a href="#back21">BACK</a></p></div><div class="note"><p class="letnote"><a name="22">[22] </a>A meeting between the Spanish and
Portuguese monarchs. <a href="#back22">BACK</a></p></div><div class="note"><p class="letnote"><a name="23">[23] </a>Samuel Taylor Coleridge’s <span class="titlem">The Watchman</span>
appeared between 1 March and 13 May 1796. <a href="#back23">BACK</a></p></div><div class="note"><p class="letnote"><a name="24">[24] </a>John Bunyan
(c. 1628–1688; <span class="titlem">DNB</span>), <span class="titlem">The Pilgrim’s Progress</span> (1678). <a href="#back24">BACK</a></p></div><div class="note"><p class="letnote"><a name="25">[25] </a>Southey is referring to a walking stick. <a href="#back25">BACK</a></p></div><div class="note"><p class="letnote"><a name="26">[26] </a>Southey is referring to a walking stick. <a href="#back26">BACK</a></p></div><div class="note"><p class="letnote"><a name="27">[27] </a>An adaptation of <span class="titlem">Macbeth</span>, Act
2, scene 2, line 33. <a href="#back27">BACK</a></p></div><div class="note"><p class="letnote"><a name="28">[28] </a>George, Duke of Clarence (1449–1478;
<span class="titlem">DNB</span>), was allegedly executed by being drowned in a vat of Malmsey, a type of wine. <a href="#back28">BACK</a></p></div></div></div></div></div></div><section class="field field-name-field-parent-section field-type-entityreference field-label-above view-mode-fulltext"><h2 class="field-label">Parent Section:&nbsp;</h2><div class="field-items"><div class="field-item even"><a href="/node/31535">Electronic Editions</a></div></div></section><section class="field field-name-field-resource-index field-type-entityreference field-label-above view-mode-fulltext"><h2 class="field-label">Parent Resource:&nbsp;</h2><div class="field-items"><div class="field-item even"><a href="/editions/southey_letters">The Collected Letters of Robert Southey</a></div></div></section><section class="field field-name-taxonomy-vocabulary-52 field-type-taxonomy-term-reference field-label-above view-mode-fulltext"><h2 class="field-label">Section:&nbsp;</h2><ul class="field-items"><li class="field-item even"><a href="/category/resource-taxonomy/collected-letters-robert-southey" typeof="skos:Concept" property="rdfs:label skos:prefLabel" datatype="">The Collected Letters of Robert Southey</a></li></ul></section><section class="field field-name-opencalais-city-tags field-type-taxonomy-term-reference field-label-above view-mode-fulltext"><h2 class="field-label">City:&nbsp;</h2><ul class="field-items"><li class="field-item even"><a href="/category/city/chipping-norton" typeof="skos:Concept" property="rdfs:label skos:prefLabel" datatype="">Chipping Norton</a></li><li class="field-item odd"><a href="/category/city/exeter" typeof="skos:Concept" property="rdfs:label skos:prefLabel" datatype="">Exeter</a></li><li class="field-item even"><a href="/category/city/worcester" typeof="skos:Concept" property="rdfs:label skos:prefLabel" datatype="">Worcester</a></li><li class="field-item odd"><a href="/category/city/lisbon" typeof="skos:Concept" property="rdfs:label skos:prefLabel" datatype="">Lisbon</a></li><li class="field-item even"><a href="/category/city/warwick" typeof="skos:Concept" property="rdfs:label skos:prefLabel" datatype="">Warwick</a></li><li class="field-item odd"><a href="/category/city/blenheim" typeof="skos:Concept" property="rdfs:label skos:prefLabel" datatype="">Blenheim</a></li><li class="field-item even"><a href="/category/city/gloucester" typeof="skos:Concept" property="rdfs:label skos:prefLabel" datatype="">Gloucester</a></li><li class="field-item odd"><a href="/category/city/oxford" typeof="skos:Concept" property="rdfs:label skos:prefLabel" datatype="">Oxford</a></li></ul></section><section class="field field-name-opencalais-country-tags field-type-taxonomy-term-reference field-label-above view-mode-fulltext"><h2 class="field-label">Country:&nbsp;</h2><ul class="field-items"><li class="field-item even"><a href="/category/country/portugal" typeof="skos:Concept" property="rdfs:label skos:prefLabel" datatype="">Portugal</a></li><li class="field-item odd"><a href="/category/country/scotland" typeof="skos:Concept" property="rdfs:label skos:prefLabel" datatype="">Scotland</a></li><li class="field-item even"><a href="/category/country/spain" typeof="skos:Concept" property="rdfs:label skos:prefLabel" datatype="">Spain</a></li></ul></section><section class="field field-name-opencalais-naturalfeature-tags field-type-taxonomy-term-reference field-label-above view-mode-fulltext"><h2 class="field-label">NaturalFeature:&nbsp;</h2><ul class="field-items"><li class="field-item even"><a href="/category/natural-feature/madamescourt-hill" typeof="skos:Concept" property="rdfs:label skos:prefLabel" datatype="">Madamescourt Hill</a></li><li class="field-item odd"><a href="/category/natural-feature/malvern-hills" typeof="skos:Concept" property="rdfs:label skos:prefLabel" datatype="">Malvern Hills</a></li></ul></section><section class="field field-name-opencalais-person-tags field-type-taxonomy-term-reference field-label-above view-mode-fulltext"><h2 class="field-label">Person:&nbsp;</h2><ul class="field-items"><li class="field-item even"><a href="/category/person/robert-lovell" typeof="skos:Concept" property="rdfs:label skos:prefLabel" datatype="">Robert Lovell</a></li><li class="field-item odd"><a href="/category/person/robert-southey-0" typeof="skos:Concept" property="rdfs:label skos:prefLabel" datatype="">Robert Southey</a></li></ul></section><section class="field field-name-opencalais-provinceorstate-tags field-type-taxonomy-term-reference field-label-above view-mode-fulltext"><h2 class="field-label">ProvinceOrState:&nbsp;</h2><ul class="field-items"><li class="field-item even"><a href="/category/province-or-state/sussex" typeof="skos:Concept" property="rdfs:label skos:prefLabel" datatype="">Sussex</a></li></ul></section>Fri, 20 Jan 2012 15:05:49 +0000rc-admin21467 at http://www.rc.umd.edu